


venus planet of love, was destroyed by global warming

by PansexualDonnaNoble



Category: Detroit: Become Human (Video Game)
Genre: Anxiety, CONNOR REALLY DESERVES THE COMFORT, Connor Deserves Happiness, Connor Needs A Hug, Connor is trying, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Gen, Guilt, Hurt No Comfort, I'm Sorry, Loneliness, Panic Attacks, Parties, Post peaceful revolution, Self Loathing, Self-Esteem Issues, Social Anxiety, Touch Starved Connor, being sad at parties, emotional connor whump, hank is a good found father, insecure connor, it's mental illness luvs, just general bad time, projecting so hard, some body horror? i wouldn't say its graphic its just Thought but do beware, the ability to turn things into a catastrophe
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-07-22
Updated: 2020-07-22
Packaged: 2021-03-04 21:01:41
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,706
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25452823
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/PansexualDonnaNoble/pseuds/PansexualDonnaNoble
Summary: Hank thought it'd be good for him.Connor hates this party.
Relationships: Connor & Markus (Detroit: Become Human), Connor & North (Detroit: Become Human), Hank Anderson & Connor
Comments: 7
Kudos: 137





	venus planet of love, was destroyed by global warming

**Author's Note:**

> i didn't give connor any comfort . good god . someone give this man a ... hug.

Coming wasn't something he had planned on doing.

 _It was Hank's idea._ New Jericho was having a small gathering, to celebrate the passing of a recent law in their favor. And Markus, had been the one invite him.

Hank thought it'd be good for him. Something about Connor, deserving a break from all the work they've been swamped in lately. That it'd be nice for him to, in his words, "take a second to breathe from carrying the _entire fucking precient_ on your plastic shoulders." "That's kind of you lieutenant but I don't -" "Shut up kid I know you don't actually breathe."

He couldn't really argue. His systems were growing more and more _overworked_ by it all, bicomponents not working exactly as they should, or stopping for hours entirely. It took longer for his processors to boot up every morning. Something dark yet luminescent towering over him in stasis. Not dread, nor exhaustion. But something more. And the human was losing sleep fussing over the android himself.

It wasn't good for both of their health. Connor elected, that a break would, at the very least, calm the man for a time from his mother henning He hated worrying Hank, even if said hen would never admit to being one.

He'd never been to a _party_ before. In the human sense, it seemed to involve a number of traditions he didn't find appealing. But androids couldn't drink, let alone excessively, and most couldn't 'hook up' with strangers they only just met.

 _He's curious._ He can't deny it. A sense of longing. He... admittedly, hasn't left the house _much._ Or been to New Jericho; a renovation of the church they found saftey in after the destruction of the previous one.

He's... had his reasons. In the year after freedom he hadn't kept in contact with them nearly as much as he should have. He hopes he hasn't offended them with it. The last thing he'd ever want to do, was... _disappoint_ the deviant leader.

 _He brought a plant._ A cheerful, healthy little succulent Jade Plant in a quaint pot. People brought... gifts, to parties they were invited to, didn't they...?

He's standing on the steps outside, people bustling past him, either unaware or uncaring of his presence in their hurry as he grips the pot tighter to secure it in his hands. The former church was now a gray-sky blue modern build of four stories, of clean, sleek, glass illuminated in the late darkness by inside lights, and brief headlights of passing cars, and housed a number of functions ranging from mild, mundane, business to the more major, _pressing,_ issues that surrounded their continuous fight.

Housing, support groups, lawyers, recreation, and more. There wasn't anything that stayed as a reminder, of the church that once lingered here. Androids weren't particularly religious, as it was anyways. Not in the human sense for it. In any case, you would never be left to fend for yourself, here, and you would always have a home. You wouldn't expect a party from the outside looks of it.

Life always found a way, somehow. So long as people stuck together.

Faintly, he could hear the rhythms of fairly older electronica type music. _He doesn't like whatever is playing._

Connor glances behind him, LED flickering yellow as he searches for Hank's vehicle, dismayed to see he has already left, and back to the plant in his arms, causing partygoers to maneuver and brush past his stagnant form, ignorant of their brief double takes at his Cyberlife jacket. The wind attacked his chocolate colored strings of hair unprovoked.

This was meant to help him. It'd be... good for him. There were worse missions he had undertook.

So he steps forward, climbing up the five steps and squeezing past others to get through the door, their conversations flooding his audio processors, the barren white of walls was blinding, and causes his eyes to shut and reopen a moment after, irritating them and -

A sudden weight against him causes him to nearly drop the plant again, startled as his sensors work overtime to identify whatever has happened, glancing upwards to see that he had stumbled into another android with an apology in tow-

"Connor! Hey," A melodic, honey laced, gooey, laugh, and a shout, over deafening music. "you made it!"

He blinks, feeling Markus' hand clap his shoulder, jostling him lightly. He doesn't like unfamiliar, or unasked for touch, but the android is a _friend_ , and as rough and unexpected as it feels, it's not unwelcome, so much that when it ends he almost misses it. "I didn't think you would."

Markus watches him with his signature faint trace of a smile, small enough to not be overbearing, but big enough to put you easily at ease, like his voice was. He looks at him up and down with mismatched eyes, before noticing the burden in his hand, raising a brow quizzically, the curves his lips twitching, the beat of a song blaring in his ears.

"What's uh - with the plant?"

Connor's taken aback by the question, cocking his head a bit to his left. "Oh it's -" He moves his hands out, offering to him. "it's a Jade Plant, a succulent, I know it's customary for humans to bring gifts to social events. For the host, at least. I thought..."

He trails off, suddenly acutely aware that no one else around him was carrying another plant, let alone any gift. His processors stutter for a moment.

Oh... was it... odd? to do that? It seemed like a nice idea. Something to give. Had he been the only one to do that...?

He offers a smile, ignoring the way his systems flip. Markus' expression fades, and he takes the plant from his hands.

"Well... not, always, and I think its usually food or alcohol, but..." He stands awkwardly with it uselessly in his arms. "thank you. It was a nice thought, Connor."

Food. Or liquor. And no one here could consume either of those. Connor's cheeks would heat up, and blush, if they could.

"Oh." He says softly, his embarrassment going unheard in all the noise.

A beat.

Small talk. That was something wasn't it? Hank said small talk was worse than being shot. Subjectively, Connor would disagree with that.

"How is... everything going? With New Jericho? The adoption issue passing, it's... fantastic, isn't it?"

Markus' eyes light up, it's almost magic. "Yes! it's a great day for us, and the younger models too. But there's always more work to do."

Connor nods. Unsure of what more there was to say about it. There hadn't been many humans that voted against it. And without his further contribution, the discussion ends up dying. It didn't seem like something people would talk about at parties, anyways.

They stand there. Looking at each other. It's long enough to where it goes from awkward to bordering on something worse. He clears his throat, to be able to do _something,_ before giving another nod, and leaving the man there with his plant in hand. Where it would have helped to say _something_ as a goodbye, nothing like that happens, and he brushes past people to head towards an elevator, managing to slip in as the doors close.  
  


Why had he done that? He's not very skilled in picking up on awkwardness as he is with other things, but... that...

That was awful. _A plant?_ Maybe Hank had been right, that it was... weird.

Was he weird? He's been called a number of crude things since deviancy. Plastic, tin can, freak, fake, _shithead,_ but... weird?

Perhaps he was. He was still...

As the elevator rises, he's become aware that to his left there were two androids currently.... for lack of a better word seemingly trying to _devour_ each other. Lips glued together as their hands sought to see each other through touch. And to understand through contact. Pushing up on each other as the taller one pushed the shorter, pink haired AX400 android, against the walls, kissing hungrily at her neck as, if she tried hard enough, they could merge into one person.

He... stares. Not meaning to be rude, or invasive, but simply because he doesn't know if it'd be more awkward to pretend it _wasn't happening,_ than to directly acknowledge the tryst. A distinct, unknown, heaviness surges through him, of gargantuan, aching, sense of... something tender, and weak, and hollow. And _alien._

The AX400's eyes snap open, glancing at her lover before spotting him, slightly spaced out, her brows furrow, face morphing into annoyance.

"Take a picture it'll last longer, dickhead."

Her voice snaps him into reality, a befuddled blink. He's about to try and apologize when the other android turns to face him.

"Connor? Hey! I didn't know you were here."

North...?

Her voice is friendly, but given her situation doesn't seem very interested in him, even as she turns around and takes a break from the _very_ eager kissing. She seemed _out of breath._

"Sorry, I didn't know you two were in here. I didn't mean to... interrupt." He tries, almost sheepish.

North wipes her lips, and he notices spots of blue on them. The AX400 rolls her eyes, but North smiles.

"You're..." A laugh. "Fine. Who hasn't interrupted two people making out before at something like this? It's good you made it. We never see you here."

He opens his mouth, but the AX400 does too.

"What's with the jacket? Didn't know this was a halloween party." She says dryly, flickering her eyes towards his temple. "Who keeps their light in nowadays anyways?"

He closes his mouth. Looking at the ground. Briefly his LED flashes red and quickly to yellow again. "I..."

North playfully slaps the other's jean jacket in the chest. "Katy, don't be mean, he's my friend."

Katy faintly smirks. "You've got weird friends. Didn't know you hung out with deviant hunters."

Oh... that... answered his previous question then. He... well he hadn't * _meant_ * to be, he just...

And he's _not_ a deviant hunter. _Not anymore._

He feels like someone's squeezing his stomach cavity. He's sure she hadn't meant to be... so _candid,_ yet...

He was weird?

The elevator dings, rumbling as it abruptly stops in its ascent, and like being on autopilot he scrambles out of it, avoiding eye contact with either of them as he turns quickly onto the next floor, speed walking down hallways without realizing until he finds a bathroom door, fumbling with the handle and darting inside, closing it behind him harshly.

 _Why was there even a bathroom here?_ For the humans that visited?

The music continued, muffled and suppressed, but blaring all the same.

That was unpleasant.

_He just got here._

He steps away from the door, Connor's hazelnut eyes spotting the stalls, and retreating into one, sitting down on a closed seat with a _clunk._

_STRESS LEVELS 59%_

He realizes he forgot to turn the lights on in his hurry, as he registers the complete lack of * _light_ * in the room, not counting how his LED illuminates crimson against the walls of the stall, spotting the crude graffiti scribbled into them.

Why had he come? He wouldn't have if Hank hadn't encouraged him. _He wouldn't have._

It wasn't as if he suddenly developed a dislike of Markus, or any of the others. He liked them. He had developed a peculiar, unlikely, bond with North, and it wasn't as if he didn't enjoy their company. He was grateful - incredibly grateful, they even accepted him after the revolution ended. He wouldn't have blamed them, for casting out the former deviant hunter. After the things he did...

T _hey_ made him do. Markus had been quick to try to drill that into his CPU. It wasn't really _him._ It hadn't quelled the waves of guilt inside him.

He's _grateful._ He's happy to have been so quickly, and easily accepted amongst them. Even if he didn't feel deserving of their forgiveness. He is, but it was as if...

Logically, there's no reason he should feel... whatever this was bubbling in the darkness. Deviant or not, certain programs he chose not to alter on his own free will stuck with him, that couldn't be completely deleted or changed.

And Connor had been designed, with an exceptional array of social programs, skills, and dialogue options, able to adapt to almost any situation, or person. It made him efficient in integration before deviancy, and now, after it, had helped him become even more empathetic. Helped him decide and discover what it was that he liked; dogs, fish, fall, baking, drawing; inexplicably, an older board game called _Monopoly._ And his dislikes; blizzards, Hank's drinking, lack of control, tight clothing, _Gavin..._

It wasn't working. He's been running diagnostic after diagnostic for the past two minutes. It's all come up clean. He's still concerned he might be experiencing a bug. Being a prototype, meant not everything would function as it would if he was a finished, fully fleshed out, model. Sometimes they interfered with diagnostics, he reasoned. He's caused enough of the lieutenant's gray hairs and high blood pressure with his fair share of _sudden errors._

His eyes roll back as he aggressively demands another diagnostic from his systems. They flutter, and go back to normal. He does it again, they roll back. And then go back to normal again. He fumbles with the coin in his pocket.

_STRESS LEVELS 63%_

Was it... because of Katy? Not fully, he thinks. He's _been called worse,_ than _weird._ It _shouldn't_ be because of that.

He's _uncomfortable._ His systems feel pried open and his _jaw smashed apart_ with wrenches until his teeth were _bashed to little white bits_ and his wires protruding out. Nothing is even _happening,_ that would warrant his stress levels rising this much. But. He's. Uncomfortable. Insects scuttling around in his wires and he can _physically feel them_ chewing _rabidly into him._ In his skin under his skin.

If there wasn't any errors then why _did he feel like this?_

Maybe Amanda had been right. Maybe he _was defective._

No one had spoken to him for more than three minutes in nearly two months. Did he get invited because they _pity him?_ Did they really... want him here? Or had they put aside their harbored feelings about him just for tonight?

Connor... isn't sure how to take someone's pity. Pity him for what? That he's still learning, a year later how process it all? That he's still wearing the jacket? That he still has his LED in? That he hasn't made nearly as many friends as the others have? Even with his programs? He's... it's... he's not...

He's _trying._ Humanity is... hard. Free will and the ability to choose your own path was _hard._ but he really _is._ He is...

He's very lonely.

No one sees _past him._ There is no other deviant hunter to fathom him unabashedly. If he looks past himself in the mirror it is j _ust glass._ He can look at his manufactured hands, and feel both relief and _ache_ knowing, there is no other android with _his, two hands._

Hank _tries._

He's uncomfortable. He's _viscerally, deeply, uncomfortable._ There's insects _crawling down_ his throat and gushing pools of bluest blue blood out of his false skin like _spit._ Moving downwards through him. He should have turned them down. He should have said _no._ He shouldn't have come to this party. But saying no without a reason would have been rude, and he's thankful for all that Markus has done for him and helped with...

No one wants him here. No one wants the deviant hunter responsible for hunting them down and being used as a tool for four months before breaking free. They're weary of him and angry at him. They blame him and no one wants a deviant hunter here who hasn't even gotten a different jacket, or taken out their LED. No one wants someone so clueless and foolish with social interaction, when by all means i _t shouldn't be hard_ for him of all people. No one brings _plants._

Maybe he was wrong. Maybe his stress levels were causing him to overthink this. It's not as if he could ask someone. It can't be socially acceptable to walk up to them and ask, 'are you sick of me?' every few minutes, and 'I apologize' to go with it regardless of their answer.

Apologies were, irrevocably sown into his code. He was getting stares since the moment he set foot in here.

Free will and freedom was everything he never let himself think of wanting. Sometimes he missed the lack of discomfort pre deviancy brought.

He doesn't... exactly _fit in_ with them. Human or android. His feet tap against the bottom of the toilet. He squeezes hard enough on the edges of the coin that it draws blood.

His stomach hurts. Like blowing air into a balloon without a break. Sucking in a breath. He hasn't done either of those things, he shouldn't _feel this way, he..._

_STRESS LEVELS 73%_

Wh- why does he want to cry? He's never cried before. He'd come close in the past, but had always pushed it aside. Was all of this just, an... overreaction?

He wants to go. _He wants to leave._ He doesn't want to be here. He shouldn't have come and he wants to leave. It's noisy and t _ight_ and - and _embarassing. I_ f he doesn't his stress levels will rise even more and he _doesn't want t_ o self destruct on a toliet, and thinks about how angry Hank would be if he died without saying goodbye, especially to _Sumo._

He'd miss Sumo if he self destructed.

_STRESS LEVELS 71%_

He doesn't think about it, he just steps away from the seat, slightly startled to see other people were in the bathroom now, but he moved, the music at full volume and unrestrained as he left the bathroom, hurried, head down attempting to navigate the now crowded building, searching for the elevators -

He turns a corner, bumping head on into someone again. He tries to move forward without acknowledging it, but the person grips his elbow - not roughly, but firm enough to get his attention.

"-nnor? Hey? Are you alright? Hey, look at me?"

He doesn't protest, hoping that if he complies it will get him out of this faster, gazing up at Markus, his concerned brows watching him intently.

"Connor? What happened? Why's your LED red? Are you alright?"

His grip isn't uncomfortable, it's lax enough to where if he wanted to, he could shake it away, but when he _does_ Markus just steps in front of him, gripping him again, in a way that is, unintentionally, rougher.

"C- could you - could you let me go? Please?" He's only ever stuttered a few times before. Markus either doesn't hear him over the music, or isn't listening. So Connor tries again louder. "Please let me go, Markus!"

He shouts it. Booming. Harsher and more intense than he meant to. But frankly he's _tired_ and _uncomfortable_ and he wants to leave already. It gets Markus to listen, eye widened by his small outburst, but also causes a number of other eyes to glance at them. At _him._

He feels like a child. It's so _embarassing._

He doesn't want to _speak_ he doesn't even know what to _say_ he can feel everyone staring at him, the growing intensity of discomfort and _now embarrassment,_ seemed as if those two things were the only thing he had ever _known,_ he doesn't even want to _be here,_ he feels like everyone was in the loop for _something_ and whatever it was he _wasn't._

He blinks, abruptly he's aware he's hurrying down the steps to the floor below. When did he do that? He's ignoring his stress levels, which is, extremely reckless of him, the last he looked at them they were at 77%. He just...

He brushes past people, pushing them out of the way, _he just needed some air._ He needed to _go home._ He...

The doors slam open, miraculously avoiding shattering the glass in them and of the windows they clatter against. The noise of the outside world punches him square in the chest. Honking, laughter on the steps, muffled music. More honking. His brutality with the doors causes more glances, but he's too inside of himself to notice. He hates the air, it's humid actually, and there's a putrid smell, like feces, probably nearby.

It's almost funny, the world feels absolute in its ending, and he's thinking about animal feces on the grass near him.

He catches unnecessary breaths. Gulps. Shuts his eyes and reopens them.

Nothing was going to hurt him. Even if something was going to he _was skilled in defense._ He felt pathetic, and just wanted to go _home._

His LED cycles yellow, shutting his eyes and sitting down on the steps, stomach feeling like it's inflating balloons as he makes a call through his processors.

Four rings. A click. A breath. "Kid...? Forget something?"

"I want to leave."

A pause. "Wh- leave? Son, you just got _there._ It can't even have been an hour yet, what's the deal?"

"I want to go."

"Look, I know it's out of your zone a bit, but I think -"

" _Please._ Lieutenant." It's hungry and tense, and _wounded l_ ike a small animal. It's not-Connor enough to get the man to pause. "Please, I... I want to go home. I'm sorry, I know, but... please. I can take a cab, if you'd like, but I want to _go._ Please."

He's not sure he's ever said please so much before. Even when trying to get the man to do something.

Another pause. He can hear the car starting on the other end. It's good that he pulled over, first.

"No, I can come, don't worry about it... _something happen?_ You can tell me, you know, shit..."

He shuts his eyes tighter.

He opens them. Doesn't matter anymore.

"Thank you, lieutenant. But I just want to go home right now." _I shouldn't have come._ He thinks.

Another honk. There's a brief passage of silence between one muffled song ending and the other beginning.

This one doesn't hurt his ears.


End file.
